


Just a Taste of What You've Paid For

by Ysabeau



Series: The Hottest Tenants You've Ever Seen [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And hates your fiance, Broken Engagement, F/F, F/M, First chapter sets some things up, Grandma is cool as hell, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Multi, Other, POV Bisexual Character, Reader is in an established relationship with an oc, Reader is referred to as (y/n) Dennis but her last name isn't used too often, Reader-Insert, Recovery, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysabeau/pseuds/Ysabeau
Summary: --currently abandoned. I may pick it up and rewrite it some day but I'm not happy enough with it to continue as it's currently written--For years, you've basically known no one but your fiance, Owen. In the back of your mind, you knew the moments he wasn't treating you right, but you couldn't pull yourself together to leave. But after your grandmother gives you the tough love you need to put your safety over your comfort, you find yourself living in the apartment building she owns that is just full of so many beautiful people. Your grandmother is one lucky bitch and she's more than happy to introduce you to someone whose grandchildren she actually wants.





	1. The Only Difference

**Author's Note:**

> there’s a lot of cuts in this chapter since it’s setting up the plot and everything. I didn't want to just throw 3k words of mc's usual day at everyone since we’re all here for the aftermath. Also, mc’s thought process is like throwing a bouncy ball down a hallway, because that’s my personal experience,, I tend to write a lot of dialogue so honestly just be prepared lmfao. anyways, enough rambling, on to some plot **minor edits made, hopefully correct now lmao** **chapter title change to fit my plans**
> 
> -wc: 2026-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your life had been the same for the past few years- but now everything is upside down and moving faster than you expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s a lot of cuts in this chapter since it’s setting up the plot and everything. I didn't want to just throw 3k words of mc's usual day at everyone since we’re all here for the aftermath. Also, mc’s thought process is like throwing a bouncy ball down a hallway, because that’s my personal experience,, I tend to write a lot of dialogue so honestly just be prepared lmfao. anyways, enough rambling, on to some plot
> 
> -wc: 2039-
> 
> 9/10/18 - minor edits with no effect on the story

For the last few years of your life, you'd had no contact with any friends or family but your grandmother. But even when you only lived a city away from her, you hadn't seen her in person in forever. Recently, your engagement had made itself priority in your life. You would tell her almost all about your fiance, and she would tell you about her most recent group of tenants. Your stories were much less exciting, and because of that a lot of your phone calls became one-sided. Last week, one of them had taken her old pooch Hachi on a walk and came back in with four more dogs in his arms. He became your fast favorite.

Today, she was telling you about how two of them had come down to knit with her as you leaned against the counter.

"They were holding the needles like damn knives, but they got the hang of it. The company was definitely nice, especially with the commotion going on outside lately." she says, and you can hear her sipping on something.

You let out a soft laugh, leaning to look out your window. "I'm not convinced I'm not living in purgatory. I've never actually seen any of my neighbors."

You hear her scoff into the phone, glass clinking. "As if you'd talk to them, you hermit."

Scoffing back at her, you cross your arms. "If I don't need to see them, then I'm not going to. It's how the modern world works."

She faintly mumbles something about things 'back in her day' and you can't resist a grin. Adjusting the phone, you leave the counter to finish cleaning up after your lunch.

"Did they actually make anything? I couldn't get past a damn purl." you directed the conversation back.

"A purl is a type of stitch, hun. No wonder you were so bad at it." she criticizes, a smile in her tone.

"Listen, honey." you start, laughing. "I prefer painting. I'm not good with dimensions."

The two of you continue to bicker over your horrible knitting as you washed your few dishes. The conversation gets back on track as she tells you about their attempts at crafting. One of them had been pretty good at it, while the other seemed like he was intent on using the needles as knives.

"Sweet Ezio even brought me some cute little pastries he made this morning." she practically bragged.

"Hey, that was my move!" you joke, pulling out a chair at your table. "Gas station donuts every visit without fail!"

"Stale donuts have nothing on this, sweetie. He used his oven." she teased.

"But I bought them with love!"

-

The two of you talked for another half hour before you noticed the time.

"I should go," you say, unable to keep your tone light. "Owen gets off work soon so I should get dinner started."

"Tell that son of a bitch to pick something up on his way home for once." your grandma complains. "Who does he think you are, his mother?"

You smile at her words, but still find yourself tidying up the table. "I love you so much. I'll try to call again tomorrow to hear how Jacob wakes the building up this time."

You hear her sigh like she's trying not to unload how she feels on you. "I love you too, baby girl. See if you can visit soon. The boys all want to meet you, and I haven't seen you in forever."

All you could manage before your throat tightens is an "I know,"

After the two of you hang up, you take a few deep breaths and delete the call from your history. You plug your phone back into the charger on the counter, holding on to your habit of being ready to run out the door. Grabbing boxes of pasta and sauce out of the pantry, you start to get dinner ready.

Your mind wanders as you watch the water boil. Your grandma didn't ask you to see her often, even though you knew she always wants to. You'd been thinking about going much more often lately- just grab the emergency bag in the coat closet and leave. You would definitely be stuck walking- you didn't have any cash, and you never learned to drive. Stranded is a good way to describe you right now. Could you call your grandma back to send one of her neighbors to get you? Okay, that sounds weird.

You poured the pasta into the pot and thought over more options. The most fairy-tale option would be asking Owen to drive you. Why wouldn't your fiance want you to go see your grandma? Sighing, you shifted to hop up onto the counter. He'd been in an odd mood lately, and you knew mention of your family always set him off. Most of them hated him during their first meeting, when Hachi had decided he wasn't welcome. That sweet boy had never threatened anyone, but the sound he made scared even you.

You were completely dependent on Owen now, and you couldn't imagine asking anyone to take you in. It'd take a while for you to be able to pay them back, and it sounded like a lot to ask. You could ask if there was a room you could have in your grandma's building. Stack up loans until you could pay it back?

Taking a deep breath, you held your head in your hands. No wonder you stayed. Leaning back, you stirred the pasta before it stuck to the bottom of the pot.

Part of you imagined having someone come rescue you. Driving over, punching Owen in the throat for all the shit he’s said to you, and taking you away. Fiddling with the ring on your finger, you thought about the life you wished you had. The life Owen promised you'd have if you moved with him, married him, and cut off your entire life. You were so eager at the time. The thought of being able to stay home and work on your own things while never having to worry about debt was a fantasy. You had dozens of paintings in the attic, a tub of acrylics next to your bag in the coat closet. You hadn't had the time or motivation to paint in years, and it was another thing to take a toll on you.

You stir the pasta again, watching the bubbling froth. You started to hate cooking a year after moving in- you were never taught, so you learned by yourself online. At first you and Owen would do some things together, as a couple. Then he started to get impatient, wanting something to eat as soon as he got home. You fought countless times over it, and it always ended the same; with you in the wrong and Owen milking your guilt for as long as he could. You were so fucking tired of it.

Jerking slightly, you slip off the counter and grab a pan for the sauce. A lot of things were tiring. Tiring was a norm now. You could work with tiring.

-

As you finish up the spaghetti, you jump when you hear a car door slam.

“Welcome home, honey. How was your day?" you mutter to yourself before he can come inside, voice forced low.

You switch your tone, pitch higher as you mock your own voice. "Boring as ever without you, dear. I'm so glad you're home so my day can truly begin.”

The sound of keys jingling ends your one-woman show. Owen lets out a frustrated sigh as he comes into the house, closing the door rather roughly and kicking his shoes off. Wiping your hands dry, you make your way over to him.

“Rough day?" you ask, leaning against the hallway.

Owen looks up and his face softens into a smile when he sees you. “Well it’s definitely better now.”

He sets his briefcase down next to the shoe stand and pulls you in for a kiss, arms wrapped snug around your waist. Tapping his shoulder after a few moments to pull back, you motion towards the kitchen.

“Dinner’s done. Want to eat in front of the TV tonight?” you offer.

Your fiance smiles, kissing your nose and your forehead. "You're the best, baby. Grab me a beer while I get the stands?”

You kiss his cheek before pulling out of his arms, his hands lingering as long as they could before you're out of reach.

“Any noteworthy assholery at the office today?” you call out, opening the fridge to find a beer and a soda.

“Oh, I made a list!" he yells back, sounding pleased with himself.

-

After you cleaned up after dinner and Owen got in the shower, you found yourself lingering by your phone. You'd have a headstart if you left now, right? Then again you’d be walking and he could just drive after you. I'd been a good day so far, but this has happened before. You were tired of telling yourself that he was done, that he was the man you'd first fallen in love with.

You wipe your eyes as your thoughts overwhelm you, setting your now empty can in the recycling bin. Maybe you just need someone to talk to- you were just going stir crazy from being inside forever. You take out a towel and warp it around your hand a bit to clean off the counter. At this point, you were just doing anything to stall going to bed with all these thoughts running through your head.

“Anything exciting happen to you today?” Owen asks, rounding the corner as he towel-dries his hair.

“Oh, yeah I almost forgot,” you begin, folding the small towel back up. “I found a portal in our attic and became the queen of a magical realm.”

Owen laughs, pulling you into his damp arms. “Well, you’re already the queen of my world, so I might just have to go to battle for your right to stay.”

With a quick kiss to your forehead, he leans away from you. “Would you mind getting up with me tomorrow? I have a big meeting and some homemade breakfast would be amazing.”

You grin and tug him back in by the towel around his hips. “Will I be getting something in return, Mr. Businessman?”

Faking a contemplative expression, Owen dips down to lift you with his arms tight around the back of your thighs. “Maybe an hour with the best lover in town?”

You throw your eyebrows up as you tease him, hands on his shoulders. “We’re getting company?”

Scoffing at the insult, Owen walks forward to lay you out on the counter. “I assure you you’ll have no doubts to my title in a few minutes.”

Wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him in, you lift your arms for him to slip your shirt off. “Only a few minutes? I was hoping for something a little longer.”

As your bra and his towel hit the floor, the game cuts short.

-

The next morning, after sending Owen to work with a long kiss at the door, you couldn’t get yourself to fall back asleep. Your alarm goes off in a few hours, and you hoped to be able to get just a bit more rest, but apparently not. You lie in bed watching the ceiling fan, fingers tapping on your stomach. The house was almost completely silent until you hear your phone go off in the kitchen. Groaning, you roll over the side and shove your feet into your slippers to spare your skin from the chilled tile floors.

You didn’t get many calls- most were either Owen or a telemarketer- so Grams should be an easy guess for who it was. But she knew not to call you first. Picking the phone up, you couldn’t help the feeling of anxiety that builds up.

“Hello?” you say, voice strained.

“Is this (y/n)? Mrs. Dennis’ granddaughter?” a male voice questions on the other line.

“Who is this?” you ask, scratching at the counter in stress.

“I’m one of her tenants, Desmond Miles. Something happened and I really think you should get over here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if you catch any typos! The first half of this was put through Hemingway, but then I felt like it was making everything sound too stiff so I said fuck it and switched to docs. next chapter should be up super soon bc I'm on a roll and starting right now, so,,, let me know what you thought and what you'd like to see!


	2. Miss Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting a call from someone saying they live with your grandmother, you find yourself grabbing your emergency bag and being taken to stay with her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 200 hits + 11 kudos <3 I'm sorry this took so long. I actually started the first draft of this chapter right after I published the last one, but it kept feeling rushed and I got a little intimidated lol. Anyways, as always, please let me know if there are any errors! This is my first time writing for any of these characters, so it will take me some time to calibrate to their personalities lmao.
> 
> -wc: 2259-
> 
> 9/10/18 - minor edits with no effect to the story

Your races as you listen to the man on the other line. “Wait, a _gang?_ ”

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I swear I’m telling you the truth,” he responds.

“How the hell did Grams get mixed up with a damn gang?” you press.

“It’s been a whole thing longer than I’ve known her, but recently things have gotten bad,” Desmond explains. “Yesterday they told her that they made contact with one of her relatives- which we discovered was you- and it’s just not safe for you to be where you are alone.”

You struggle to find anything to say in return.

“One of us can come pick you up if you can’t get here yourself. That’d actually be better than you traveling alone,” he says.

“Wait, do they know where I live?” you ask. “What about my fiance?”

“We can get someone to you in, like, half an hour,” Desmond continues. “Can you be ready by then? Pack for a while.”  
  
“ _Wait_ ,” you press. “Can you just answer me, please?”

He pauses for a moment. “It’s very likely they know where you live, which is why we need to come get you. We don’t think your fiance is in any danger.”

You run a hand through your hair in frustration. “Everything you’re telling me sounds very concrete.”

You hear a rough sigh and feel a twitch in your lip.

“Please just pack for a week or so. Your Grams is upstairs right now getting a room ready for you.” Desmond says.

You give yourself a second before trying again. “I can’t just leave Owen here. What if he’s in danger, too?”

“Listen, this isn’t about you, it’s about your grandma.” he stresses. “Owen doesn’t mean anything to her, not like you.”

You sigh, scratching at your neck. “Alright. Someone’s coming to get me?”

-

You tried to ignore the uncomfortable pit of anxiety settled in your chest as you sat on your bedroom floor. You had your emergency bag and another for your electronics next to you, fingers curled into the carpet below you.

“Okay. This is happening. But it’s totally okay. Everything’s gonna be fine. Just tell Owe-” your sentence is cut off when you groan, leaning forward. “Yeah- hey, honey just letting you know that there might be a gang threatening me and I’ve been talking to Grams behind your back, and now I’m just gonna leave for a while. Love you!”

You lean back against the foot of your bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Is this karma for wanting to leave? I just wanted to go to a Ren Faire or something.”

You pick at the leggings on your thigh, gathering some stray lint under your nail. Is this crazy? This is definitely crazy. Letting out a deep sigh, you pat the floor before standing up and heading to the kitchen.

“Okay. Just rip the band-aid off and take your battery out,” you plan. “Just let him know and honestly just never speak to him again, no big deal. Never confront my issues.”

Opening the fridge, you grab a bottle of lemon water off the top shelf. “Wow, maybe this is my chance to move to Venice. Or Rome. Italy sounds great right now,”

You shake the bottle as you knocked the fridge closed, turning on your heel to wait on the couch.

“Maybe I’ll just leave him a note? Explain the situation and get everything down before I choke up. Nice plan. Then on to Italy,” you mutter to yourself some time longer about leaving the country over this situation before your phone goes off on the counter.

Taking a deep breath, you set your half-empty drink on the table before getting up to answer your phone. Expecting to see Grams, you flinch when it says Owen instead. Hesitating for a moment, you answer the phone.

“Babe?” you greet, confused.

“Hey, hun. Just checking up on you.” Owen responds. “Couldn’t get back to sleep?”

You look over at the clock on your stove. It’d been about an hour since he left for work, and a little less than half of that since Desmond called.

“No, I just decided to give in and get some work done around the house,” you lie, cringing.

There's a brief moment before Owen speaks again. “Alright, I’m sorry you couldn’t get some more rest. Thank you for breakfast, though.”

“It’s alright, hun,” you say, fiddling with a button on your sleeve. “I hope your meeting goes well. Tell me all about it when you get home?”

You find yourself cringing at your words again before he replies. “Yeah, of course. Thanks. Love you,”

“Love you too, Owen,”

When he hangs up, you find yourself releasing much more air than you realized you were holding. Why didn’t you just tell him? There’s literally no way for you to ignore this problem; it was on it’s way to pick you up. You crouched low and bury your face in your hands, screaming in frustration. Why the actual hell was your grandmother having beef with a gang? And why were they trying to drag you into this? The least they could do was drag your fiance into it too so you wouldn’t be having a moral dilemma before noon.

Your phone rings once more, and you find yourself jumping again. “Oh my god, I need a softer ringtone,”

Standing straight once more, you see Grams’ number on the screen. Taking a very brief moment to settle yourself, you answer your phone again.

“Hello?”

You breathe a sigh of relief as your grandma answered. “(y/n)? You sound stressed,”

You laugh at her observation. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed. I wonder what it is,”

She scoffs on the other line. “Make a list. Anyways, one of the boys are almost at your place, so don’t shoot him through the door. He’s a sweet one, although a pain in my ass, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Ah, thank you, I’ll go put my shotgun back on the rack,” you joke, moving back to your room to bring your bags up front.

Neither of you speak until both totes are on the floor and you’re back in your chair with a sigh.

“Despite the circumstances, I’m happy I get to see you,” you say, voice soft.

“I am too, baby doll. The boys are excited too, even though a few are a little emotionally constipated.”

You snort at her words. “Rude. Do you talk about all of your tenants like that?”

“Only when they deserve it,” a horrible sound follows her words and you cringe away.

“What’re you doing, blending a fork?” you ask.

“Making a smoothie, dear.” Grams replies, yelling over the blender. “Would you like some.”

You pull your phone away from your ear and laugh. “If this is what staying with you will be like, I may just pitch a tent on the roof like old times.”

After a second, the blender stops and you hear glasses clinking. “With your survival skills you’d be safer with a sleeping bag in the hallway.”

“Ooh, save me a bag of frozen peas for that burn, Grams,” you tease.

“Have you eaten yet? We had breakfast a while ago, but I can make you some more if you’re hungry,” she offers.

“I’m good. My body’s running on pure anxiety right now. Feels great,” you move to your door to look out the side window. “When’s your boy supposed to be here? I might just fall asleep again,”

“I’m making you food,” Grams backtracks. “And Arno is very strict with traffic laws when he borrows cars.”

“‘Friend from work’ borrow or ‘GTA’ borrow?” you ask, lowering your tone.

There’s a moment of hesitation before she responds. “I’m not at liberty to say,”

Your eyes widen as you look at your phone in shock. “Grams, I was completely joking, but now I _need_ you to tell me.”

A few minutes later, you find yourself sitting on your kitchen counter, legs swinging as you wait for Arno to pull up. Your dying phone was charging next to you as you quietly sing the song stuck in your head. A sudden knock sounds at your door, cutting short your one-woman concert. Sliding off the edge of the counter top, you make your way to the front door to peak out at your visitor.

He was basically as Grams had described him- just a little more attractive than you had imagined. You examine him for just a moment longer before you catch his gaze. His face lights up and your eyes widen in shock before you duck out of the window.

“Miss (y/n)? I’m Arno. Your grandmother sent me,” he calls through the door, voice just loud enough to be heard by you.

“Oh, yeah, I can tell,” you mutter, trying to compose yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you unlock the door to open it for him.

“You’re taller than I expected,” you jok on instinct.

He let out a short, almost offended laugh. “Did she really bring my height into this?”

“A little hypocritical of her,” you respond with a smile, heading to the couch to grab your things. “She keeps a footstool in front of her counters.”

“I heard it was for you,” he counters, moving to take one of your bags.

“Lies and slander,” you shoot back, feeling a little more relaxed. “I haven’t needed those since middle school.”

Arno laughs and shoulders your bag. “Is this all you’re taking? I’m sure we can fit more in the car.”

You shrug and take your phone, digging through your junk drawer for a house key. “I don’t take up much space.”

Pulling the key out, you shove your phone in your back pocket and hoist up your clothes.

“I parked just down the street,” he says. “I didn’t know if you had nosy neighbors,”

“Well, neither do I,” you reply, walking behind him out the door. “But I appreciate it.”

By the time your shaking hands get the door locked, you find the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Standing in front of your door for a moment, you take deep breaths as you listen to Arno walking down your steps.

“The drive back shouldn’t take as long,” he says. “I didn’t have a car when Desmond called you.”

You spin on your heel as you remember your talk with Grams. “Yeah, about that-”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” he throws over his shoulder.

Your mouth gapes for a second before you stumble down the stairs after him. “Wait, am I gonna-”

“Don’t worry, I'm just messing with you,” he laughs.

It takes you a second to laugh back, and it doesn't sound all that natural. You follow him down the road to the car and stand next to the trunk as he puts your things in the back seat.

“Everyone’s excited to finally meet you,” Arno says, adjusting your bags so they don’t fall onto the floor. “We’ve heard a lot about you from your grandmother.”

“I could say the same about you all,” you reply, rubbing your arms nervously. “Most of it isn’t too flattering.”

Arno grins as he opens the passenger door for you. “Oh, there’s much more where that comes from. But we do have easy moments.”

“Grams never remembers those,” you joke, sitting down and pulling your seat belt on quickly. “Only things that’ll really show what you’re made of.”

Arno laughs before closing the door and quickly coming over onto his side.

Getting in as well, he says, “Much of your stories sound pretty calm. Except that one bus ride when you were in third grade.”

You look over at him in near-silenced shock as he starts the car and pulls into the road. “She didn’t. Tell me she didn’t.”

Arno’s elated face tells you she most definitely did. “It’s an adorable story.”

You lean into your door and cover your face. “I’m in Hell. You’re Chiron and we are on our way to Hell.”

“Well make sure you’re all buckled in, it’s a bumpy ride down the river Styx.” he jokes.

-

By the time you arrived at the old building, you ended up passed out against the window. You never were too good with car rides. You felt the door open in your semi-aware state, and suddenly your seat belt was unbuckled and you were being lifted.

“Still a damn child,” you hear your grandmother say. “Spoiled as all hell,”

You try to respond but only groan, planting your head firmly against whoever was carrying you.

“I can carry one of her bags,” you hear Arno say, further back than you’d expected. “The other one breaks my limit.”

“Desmond should be on his way out,” your grandma says. “Just follow Ezio up to her room then come back down to help start dinner.”

“I want chicken fingers,” you grumble. “And brownies.”

“A meal fit for a royal,” a new voice says, thickly accented and very amused.

That one was definitely closer to you than Arno and your grandmother, so you could easily guess he was the poor bastard that was on carrying duty.

“Like hell you do, brat,” your grandma says, reaching from somewhere to gently pinch your cheek. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen you, you need to eat some real food.”

“I have a healthy snack right here,” you mumble, bringing a hand up to pat the man carrying you.

You don’t need to open your eyes to know your statement greatly amused everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the boys are officially in town. I really appreciate comments, even if they aren't long, so thank you for any you may send in <3 Please let me know some things you'd like to see!! (Also, just in case anyone is confused- this story will start off as general pairing [moments with everyone] and then have a choose-your-ending style branches. I hope to get to everyone lmao and maybe then some, but for now it's the people tagged above!


	3. Death of a Bachelor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving at your grandmother's apartment building, you come to meet most of the tenants you've been hearing about

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken so long lmfao. My computer got some nasty ass malware that I can't remove, so I ended up giving in and typing this on my laptop. I'm sorry if this came out a little rushed, I really wanted to bring everyone in lmao. Anyways- If you have any questions or requests, hit up my tumblr sonofnoraven! I got myself a little emotional during this since I was writing at ~2am, so I hope it gets some of you, too lol
> 
> 9/21: (wip) minor edits being made, no effect on story [progress marked at %]
> 
> -wc: 3305-

****You hadn’t really fallen back asleep, but you definitely weren’t lucid enough to consider yourself ‘awake.’ You had heard the soft, familiar, echoing atmosphere of the stairwell, and soon you were being carried up two floors to what you could assume was your room.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble just as well as you could currently articulate. “I’m not nice to carry. But you have real nice arms,”

You hear him chuckle before you're shifted slightly in his grip and a door is opened. “Thank you for the compliment, I work very hard for them. But I don’t appreciate the insult,”

You hum instead of speaking, fingers curling into the jacket he's wearing, pulling another chuckle from him.

“You are fine, _bella_. I could carry you to the roof and back just fine,” it isn’t a long walk before another door is opening, this one causing less jostle.

“Get some sleep, come down to the lobby when you wake up,” he tells you.

A few moments later, you're being placed on something very soft and cool, making you whine. A light blanket was pulled over you gently and then the room was lighter than before and the door was being shut.

 

By the time you wake up from your unplanned nap, you can hardly recollect anything that happened after falling asleep in Arno’s car. You jerk up, looking around the dark room frantically as your chest constricts. Resisting the urge to scream, you scramble out of the bed as fast as you can before reaching the door and ripping it open. The light filling the room tries to settle your nerves- the curtains over the window are too thick to let any useful light in, leaving the room you just woke up in terrifyingly dark. You lean against the wall with a hand over your chest, bending over as you try to quell your bubbling anxiety.

“What the fuck,” you breathe. “What the _fuck_ ,”

Giving yourself a minute to calm down and think about what happened, you soon come to the conclusion that you should probably check your phone to see what time it is. Only, you can’t find your phone.

“Holy shit, I’ve been kidnapped,” you conclude, hand back on your chest. “Holy _shit,_ ”

It was way too soon after a midday nap to be dealing with all of this.

You walk to the door with an anxious speed, sighing as you find it could open. Maybe they were just horrible kidnappers? You make your way out into the hall, looking around cautiously to see where the hell you are. As your gaze reaches the end of the hall, you freeze. Standing up straight, you slowly walk over to what snagged your attention.

It's unmistakably old, even if you didn't know exactly when it was done. The paint is fading and slightly chipped, but the finger-portrait you had done of your grandmother and yourself seems completely untouched by the renovations around it. Your eyes burn slightly as your emotions hit you, along with the slight recollection of hearing said grandmother during your nap.

“I’m actually here?” you ask yourself, voice tight around the lump in your throat.

You slowly back away from the painting before heading towards the stairwell, knowing where she would be if this was real. Where she would be even if this was some fucked up fever-dream of yours.

You try to steady your breathing on your way down the stairs, knowing you were going through too much stress at the moment, and so far the only solution you could imagine was going up to the roof and screaming it out of you. When you open the door at the bottom of the stairwell, you could faintly hear some voices coming from the hall across the lobby from you. When you make it over there, you can see a door propped open at the very end, and find yourself walking forwards like it hasn’t been years since you’d been here.

As the voices grew louder and clearer, you find yourself stopping just short of the doorway, as if walking any closer would mean you’d wake up in bed next to Owen. Would mean that you weren’t about to see Grams again.

Suddenly, a deeper noise comes from the room as a scratching sound makes its way towards you. Feeling like the wind was just knocked out of you, you look down at the pitbull ramming his head into your thighs.

“Hachi?” you ask in disbelief.

Bending down, you set your hands out for the excited dog to rub his face all over, spit flying as he shakes his head. You can’t help but laugh at how much energy he has rolled up inside him, but your laughing quickly turns into pathetic sounding sobs that you can’t hold back anymore. As you fall to your knees to wrap your arms around him, you notice that the noise inside had stopped. Looking up, you notice that Grams now stands in the doorway with a slight smile.

“I wondered how long it would take you to start crying,” she says, walking forward to pull you up into a hug.

Letting out a sob that almost hurts, you wrap your arms around her, tight enough to hold this moment in case it tried to leave you. ~~%~~

You don’t know how long you stood there, but by the time you were finished, your mouth felt even grosser than it had after your nap, and Hachi had saturated your pant leg in slobber.

“Damn dog,” you whined, face buried in your grandma’s shoulder. “These leggings are so hard to clean.”

You reached a hand down anyways, rubbing the top of his head as he sneezed on you.

“You can wash ‘em off later, first you need to fix your face,” Grams said, sniffling herself.

“Speak for yourself, Grams. Don’t act like I was the only one crying.” you retorted, wiping your cheeks and reeling in a stray sob.

“I got the ugliest of mine out earlier, you look like hell. Wash up in my bathroom then help with dinner, brat,” with a shove to your shoulder, you entered her apartment.

You relied on muscle memory as you rubbed at your eyes with your sleeves, swatting at the bathroom light switch and nudging the door shut with your foot before looking in the mirror. Jerking back in shock, you took in your disheveled appearance.

“Oh wow that’s bad,” you said, quickly turning on the faucet to clean your face.

After blowing your nose, you rinsed your face with a few rounds of warm water before turning it cool to tone down the irritation of your skin.

“What’re you even making out there?” you called through the door.

“You’ll see when you get out here!” Grams called back. “Hurry up, I want to introduce you already.”

You snorted, tidying up your hair as quickly as possible.

“Who are you trying to pawn me off on no-” as you opened the bathroom door, you saw three handsome men standing in your grandma’s kitchen.

Breath hitching, you quickly stepped back in and shut the door to splash your face with cold water again. This was so unfair. This was so, completely, totally, unfair. Taking another long moment to compose yourself, you dabbed your face with the hanging towel and made your hair slightly neater. Slowly opening the door once more, you stepped out of the bathroom and sent a very pointed look at your smug grandmother.

“You have company,” you stated.

“They were here before you,” she shot back. “You would’ve seen them if you weren’t rubbing your face like a damn child,”

Your jaw dropped as you look at her in shock. “Are you _seriously-”_

“Get over here and help me cook, brat,” she interrupted you.

You shot disbelieving looks at the three men before looking back at her and entering the kitchen.

“You are _so rude,_ ” you said. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and you’re making me _cook_?”

One of them made an odd noise, and you looked over at him. “What?”

His eyes met yours as his brows raised. “I just… the cooking is what upset you?”

Your eyes narrowed as you leaned towards your grandma.

“Desmond,” she said. “I believe he’s the one that called you.”

“Ah, yes,” you responded. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He shrugged, tomato in hand. “I got you over here.”

The man next to him, Arno you recalled, bumped his shoulder. “ _I_ got her here. You got her anxious.”

“She may have done that herself,” the third man said.

You turned to look at him and quickly looked back at Grams beside you, eyes wide. She met your look with one that said she expected your expression.

“That’s Ezio,” she said. “He carried you upstairs,”

You nudged her leg before walking by her to open the fridge and hide your face. Why did your grandmother of all people casually know so many attractive men? What was she doing?

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Ezio said. “Can’t say we ever expected to meet you.”  
  
You fiddled with the pitcher of lemonade on the shelf in front of you before pulling away and closing the fridge.

“Can’t say I ever expected Grams to piss off a gang,” after a moment you added in, “Well that’s not completely true.”

There was a swift side-kick to your shin that had you jerking down to the counter. “O _uch_ ,”

“Start cooking,” she said, going back to the recipe book in front of her.

You huffed before you walked around her and took up the space between her and Ezio, grabbing a peeler from the wall holder to help with the pile of potatoes in front of him. The four of them managed to pull up a steady conversation that had you drifting out, attention on the vegetables in front of you. You had no idea what Owen was going to say after reading the letter you wrote. What could he say to this? You hadn't left the house in ages, yet suddenly you're staying with your grandmother, who he thought you hadn't spoken to in years.

You don't realize you’d stopped working until Grams’ hand was on yours, pulling your attention as the boys continued talking.

“You okay, hun?” she asked quietly.

You gave her a rushed smile, nodding slightly. "Just thinking about things. I'm fine.”

She doesn't look all that convinced, but you doubt she'll try to give you a therapy session with three people you just met in the room. She squeezed your hand for a moment before going back to her task. You found yourself listening in on the conversation behind you, slowly picking back up on you peeling.

“If he cared that much about her he wouldn’t have went drinking instead of taking her to dinner,” Arno said, obviously frustrated.

“She was trying to trick him into meeting her parents,” Desmond countered, “he made the right call,”

“He didn’t know what she was doing- his motives were completely selfish,” Arno prodded. “There’s no way he was in the right,”

“Sounds like neither of them were,” you butted in. “If they have so little respect for each other, why are they together?”

There was a moment of silence before you looked over your shoulder, seeing the two looking at you. “What? Am I wrong?”

They share a glance before shrugging.

“I’d expect a woman such as yourself to take her side,” Ezio says.

You snort, turning back to your potatoes. “If he’s not ready to meet her parents, he’s not ready. She shouldn’t have tried to trap him, and he shouldn’t have just ditched her to go drinking. They need to talk it through to see if either of them can handle a mature relationship with one another,”

You hear Grams laughing quietly next to you, Ezio grinning himself.

“So who was right?” Arno asked.

“Neither of them, dude,” Desmond says. “They both suck apparently.”

As the four of you finish preparing dinner, you all eventually end up around the tv, an old romance movie playing with Hachi laying across you and Grams.

“You’d think he would learn to lay on the floor by now,” you mutter, scratching his head in your lap.

“I wouldn’t make you lie on the floor, why would I make him?” Grams shoots back, nudging your side.

“You literally have, though,” you say. “A few New Years’ ago, I spent the night on the floor because there wasn’t enough room on the pull-out for me and three cousins.”

Ezio laughs from the armchair next to you, Desmond snorting from across the room.

“I never stay anywhere anymore unless there’s a guaranteed mattress- air or otherwise,” Desmond says. “My back has had enough of floors.”

As you start to reply, you’re all suddenly shushed by Arno, who’s completely invested in the relationship on the screen.

“Does he just have a thing for other people’s relationships or something?” you ask Grams.

“He’s a bit of a hopeless romantic,” she says, “bit like you when you were younger,”

You snort at her words, sinking into the couch. “I was never…”

 

About ten minutes before the food was ready to be taken out of the oven, you heard some new voices coming down the hall. Arno and Hachi’s heads perked up as they both turned towards the door, the former standing to meet the new people down the hall.

“Guess the job went off well,” Desmond says, absentmindedly tapping away on his phone.

“Who knows with those two,” Ezio replied. “We can only hope the economy still stands tomorrow,”

You shoot them both confused looks before Arno returns with two people in tow. You somehow manage to suppress a double take, looking at the television with your brows raised. Was everyone in this building ridiculously good looking?

“We have company?” the last one in the room, a brunette in a long coat and nice boots, asks.

You turn to look over your shoulder, hoping your expression isn’t too awkward. Arno and the man that came in with them seem distracted enough, but the woman steps forward to offer you her hand.

“Evie, this is my granddaughter, (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Evie Frye,” Grams says, nudging your shoulder from behind.

You smile, hoping your hand wasn’t shaking as you grabbed hers. “Nice to meet you.”

She returns your smile with a nod. “We’ve heard much about you. I was wondering when we’d get to meet you,”

“Can’t say this was completely planned,” you say with a slightly awkward laugh. “But it’s nice to get out of the house.”

You didn’t even realise you still had her hand in your grasp until she’s nudged to the side and there’s a larger one in its place, warm leather curling around your palm.

“Jacob,” the man introduces, grinning. “The more exciting of the Frye’s.”

You’d never met anyone that met the description of ‘ruggedly handsome’ so well before.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you as well.” you say.

His attention is quickly pulled back in by Arno, and you notice Evie is now discussing something with Ezio. A little dazed, you turn back around to meet the amused, and slightly smug, face of your grandmother. All you can do is mouth ‘wow’ to her before you turn your attention to the tv, sinking a bit more into the couch.

“You should’a seen the look on this bloke’s face when I came through the window at ‘im,” Jacob recounts behind the couch.

Evie sighs in exasperation while your eyes widen. “I unlocked the door for you, Jacob. There was absolutely no reason for you to go in that way.”

“What’s an entrance without a little property damage, dear sister?”

 

Everyone had settled in the living room by the time the timer went off, and since they all seemed to have a conversation going with Grams drifting off, you quietly excused yourself to get dinner. You hated getting things out of the oven- the heat terrified you, and the weight of anything you put in there strained your wrists. But, of course, it was your duty to cook meals every night. Sighing, you turned off the oven and leaned against the counter. You didn’t often find yourself with a moment to think so negatively on your predicament, but any time you spoke to Grams, something inside of you was gently stoked to life. Enough that you occasionally referred to your engagement as a ‘ _predicament._ ’

You brushed your hair back in frustration. You always got so close to snapping, but then Owen would come home and suddenly those rose-colored glasses were right back on your face again. You always managed some excuse for why you allowed yourself to feel like shit, and most of them just boiled down to ‘ _he loves me_ ’ or ‘ _he’s all I have_.’ But that last one wasn’t quiet true- especially not now. You twirled the ring on your finger as your mind spiraled. Your thoughts from yesterday seemed much less like a fantasy now that they were in front of you. You didn’t really have much you couldn’t part with back at the house, all you’d have to do is slip the ring in the mail slot and never have to deal with this again.

You shook your head, standing up straight. You’d put too much into this engagement to just change your mind. Owen _did_ love you, there were just nights where he got upset and you were the only one there to hear it. He was your fiance, for crying out loud.

“Penne for your thoughts?” you jumped in shock, turning to see Ezio, holding out a fork with some pasta stabbed on the end.

You let out a short laugh at the pun, shaking your head as you turned towards the fridge. “It’s nothing, just a little stressed out,”

You hear the fork being set down as you open the door, grabbing the pitcher you’d seen earlier.

“Maybe talking about it will help?” he asked. “A fresh perspective,”

You hesitate for a moment, standing in front of the open fridge. Sighing, you turn back and set the pitcher on the counter, door swinging closed.

“What would you do if you were in a relationship you were having to rationalize?” you ask, hands pressed against the counter as you stared into the lemonade.

“Relationship problems?” Ezio pondered. “You sounded like you were pretty good at these earlier.”

You sigh again, pushing your hair back. “It’s different when you’re the one _in_ the relationship. You know things that other people don’t- things they wouldn’t understand,”

The man moves closer, crossing his arms as he rested against the counter beside you. “I have some experience with my younger sister’s engagement. There were things I didn’t see, and there were things she didn’t see. But the whole picture wasn’t that deep. He was a pig that did not deserve her,”

You let out a short laugh. “Not that deep, huh?”

He almost speaks again when there’s suddenly more people in the kitchen.

“Is it done?” Desmond asks. “Like, done done?”

“Yeah,” you say, moving to the cabinets across the way to grab plates. “Is everyone eating?”

“We should have a few more coming in later,” Evie says. “But yes, we all are.”

You get ten plates down and pass them to Arno, who sets them on the counter next to the stove.

“Hey, did I leave my phone in your car?” you ask him. “I didn’t have it on me when I woke up and I should probably call Owen.”

You don’t completely register the sour expressions on most faces, but Arno manages a smile. “It’s plugged in on your counter upstairs,”

You smile back and nod before excusing yourself once more to head to your room, patting Hachi on the head as you pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please let me know if there are any errors or just what you liked or what you'd like to see! Comments are incredibly motivating to me- when I know people are still enjoying it, I want to keep writing <3


	4. I Write Sins ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find yourself unable to ignore that things are actually happening right now. And now you need to think about what to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for every comment/kudo/bookmark/hit you've left in your wake! I have huge issues with controlling my interest in things, so seeing you guys enjoy what I'm writing is really helping me keep going <3 Things are going to pick up as soon as you meet everyone, so I hope my steady trend of increasing word count continues lolol.
> 
> wc: 3951

The sleepy pit had ended up following you all the way upstairs to your new apartment, not eager to see you go just yet.

“Boy was that totally not overwhelming," you joke quietly, looking down at Hachi. “I forgot how much I just love meeting a bunch of total strangers at once.”

Hachi sneezes, looking up at you with a dog-face grin. You can't help but laugh, leaning down to rub his head before opening the door. You definitely hadn’t locked it in your panic downstairs, but nobody without a key could get past the lobby. The apartment you’d been given was one you would play in when you were younger, and occasionally stay in when you visited your grandmother. The interior had been renovated, but everything was in the same place it had been.

“Almost a little eerie,” you mutter, shutting the door gently behind you.

Hachi hopped up on your couch before curling up, head resting on the arm. You could see your phone lying on the kitchen counter, plugged in next to the coffee maker. Your mood had been fluctuating ever since you’d gotten the call from Desmond this morning, and right now it was sliding downhill fast. Things were beginning to feel all too real- like you were about to stand in front of a judge and jury and profess all of your sins. Why the hell did a phone call feel so damning?

You lifted it off the counter and turned on the screen, scanning the small list of notifications.There was one missed call from Owen about half an hour ago and a text soon after.

‘ _Hey baby, I’ll be home late today. Start dinner a little later so it’ll still be good when I get there, love you,’_

You couldn’t help but laugh in shock. “That’s really what he’s going with, huh.”

You unplugged your phone and made your way to the door next to the couch that lead to the fire escape. You sat on the steps with your legs tucked, calling Owen back. It rang for a while before just going to voicemail, and you decided to wait. The air was already cooling as the clouds gathered in and the breeze picked up. It almost felt like a blessing in disguise that he wasn’t answering, but that just meant you’d have to have the conversation later.

As you milled over what to do, your phone rang in your hand, making you jump. Owen’s name popped up on the screen and you took a deep breath before answering.

“Hey, honey, just checking in on you to see when you’ll be home,” you say, voice cheery.

“Hello?” someone who was definitely not Owen asked.

You froze as you heard the woman’s voice.

“Who is this?” she asked, sounding mad.

“That sounds like my line,” you say. “I’m (y/n), Owen’s fiancée. Who are you?”

A moment of silence passes, and before you can say anything else, the call drops.

When you can finally bring yourself to speak again, all you can say is, “What the _fuck,_ ”

You don’t know how long you sat out there, staring at your phone in numb, confused shock. You couldn’t help but recount how many times things like this have happened- how many excuses you’d accepted just to ignore what was happening around you. Why was everything suddenly breaking through now? You let your head fall into your hands, taking a few deep breaths until you felt yourself start to calm down. You were too tired and stressed to convince yourself that nothing was happening, so you let your mind spiral as you thought over your situation.

-

The air was cold by the time you find yourself laying back on the fire escape, staring up at the grate above you.

“So he’s been cheating on me,” you decided. “Maybe the first time, maybe not,”

You’d debating calling him again, but you figured all you would be able to do is either sit in stunned silence or scream as high as you could into the receiver.

“Great plan,” you mumbled, throwing an arm over your eyes. “Great, great plan,”

A few more minutes pass before your phone goes off again. It nearly goes to voicemail before you answer it, putting it up to your ear without opening your eyes.  
“Hello?” you ask, tone stressed.

“Hey, it’s Desmond,” the man on the phone says. “You okay? You’ve been up there for a while,”

You let out a short laugh as you sit up. “Yeah, sorry, just thinking about… everything. Is the food cold already?”

“Nah, Ezio got you a plate set up in the microwave. Grams is out front with Arno bringing some stuff in with some of the others you haven’t gotten to meet yet.”

“Oh, yay, more strangers,” you joke, standing stiffly to head back inside.

“Don’t worry,” Desmond says, sounding amused, “I know Altair is just going to head to his room for a while, you’ll probably just need to meet two tonight,”

Hachi jumps up as you open the door, at your feet as you close it behind you.

“As long as I get some of that food in my mouth before they come in. I’m completely drained,” you say, leaning back against the door as you pet Hachi.

“I could just bring your plate up to you,” he offers. “Grams may want you down later to grab Hachi and spend some time with you without us,”

You think for a moment before responding. “Could you? That would actually be amazing.”

“Think of it as an apology for the mini-heart attack,” he says, and you can hear the microwave door opening. “I’ll be up in a minute, I’m gonna take my time on those damn stairs so I don’t drop everything down multiple stories.”

“I’m sure Hachi would love to help with that mess,” you say, laughing. “The door’s unlocked, I’m gonna start getting my stuff set up, so just let me know when you’re up here,”

“Got it,” he says, and the line cuts off.

Sighing, you rub Hachi’s head again before making your way to the kitchen to plug your phone back in. You save the previously unknown number as Desmond’s before going back into your bedroom to sort through your things. There were a few clothes already in the dresser that you could remember as some of Grams’ things that you’d take when you stayed with her. Soft shirts and comfortable pants that you always had to roll up around your ankles until you hit your early teens looked just as tempting as they had years ago. Closing your door slightly, you quickly changed into a pair of flannel pajamas and a long-sleeved cotton shirt with a cartoon pug face on it.

“Breed traitor,” you scoffed with a grin, adjusting the fit in the mirror next to your bed.

A short knock came from your door as you fixed your hair again, trying to look like you weren’t just wallowing on the fire escape. You didn’t look like you were crying too bad, and it was pretty cold outside, so at least that had an excuse. You hear Hachi scrambling in the living area as the door opens.

“I didn’t drop a damn thing!” Desmond calls, sounding very proud of himself.

You push your sleeves up to your elbows as you walk out to meet him. “Sounds like that’s an accomplishment for you,”

He leans against the counter with his arms crossed. “When Grams sends you upstairs with a paper plate past its weight limit, it is.”

As you sit up on the barstool across the counter from him, he opens a drawer and slides a fork across to you.

“We always wondered why she didn’t let any of us up here,” he says, looking around the room. “Connor and I brought some new furniture up here a few days ago, but that was probably the first time anyone but her has been up here in awhile.”

You stab at the pasta for a minute before speaking. “My parents and I stayed up here. My mom said they had the best views.”

There’s a moment of silence as you start eating, broken only by the dog rubbing his face against Desmond’s jeans.

“I’ve been hearing everything second-hand, but I’m still curious.” he says rather quietly, and you can’t stop the tension in our body. “What the hell happened to you?”

You shove the fork in your mouth again to buy yourself some time as you think over what to say. “I was naive. I believed every word he told me, listened to everything he said.”

“Past tense,” he notes, leaning a bit further to you. “What changed?”

You look over at your phone. “Pun intended, I had a wake-up call,”

After a brief moment, Desmond slides the drawer open again to grab another fork and is suddenly stealing brocoli off your plate. You look at him in disbelief, but he holds eye contact as he eats your food.

“ _Why_?” you ask quietly, nearly a breath.

“Delivery tax,” he answers, pushing off the counter and turning around.

He opens a cabinet next to the fridge and pulls out a couple of glasses.

“Oh so you’re moving in now?” you joke as he opens your fridge.

“Hey, I put a pitcher of kool-aid in here,” he says in a mock defensive tone. “I’m also taking some tax out of that.”

“What’s up with you and taxes?” you ask, reaching for the glass as he filled it.

He shrugs, handing it to you before filling his own. “Very convenient.”

You laugh, sipping your drink. It wasn’t a single familiar flavor or color, but it was definitely pleasant.

“Is this an experiment?” you asked, swirling the glass a bit to watch the color swirl.

“It’s a ‘hey I’m your resident bartender but I don’t know if you drink so here’s my skill in kool-aid’ gift,” he says, leaving the counter to put the pitcher back.

“This is ridiculous,” you say. “Makes up for the taxes. Thank you,”

He grins before raising his glass slightly and drinking it himself.

-

The two of you end up talking for a bit longer as you finish your dinner and another glass of his mixology expertise. He’s now sitting in the stool next to you with Hachi curled up at your feet, the two of you resting your arms on the counter as you swapped stories.

“So Altair’s still nowhere to be seen, Jacob’s clothes are on fire on the roof, and Connor has seven dogs in his apartment,” he quickly summarizes the beginning of his current story. “And we _still_ can’t find that fucking bird!”

You slap a hand over your gaping mouth as you start laughing once more, Desmond joining shortly.

“What the actual hell do you guys do here?” you ask between breaths.

“I’m sure if Grams wasn’t cool as hell we wouldn’t have lasted a week here,” he says, chuckling slightly.

There’s a knock on your door and you both look over to it as it cracks open slightly.

“We were wondering where the hell you ended up,” Jacob says, peeking his head in the door.

You press a hand back over your grin, trying not to laugh at the sight of him with what you know now. Desmond checks his phone and lets out an ‘oh, shit.’

“Sorry, guess my phone was on silent,” he says. “I brought (y/n) her dinner and ended up telling her about last Christmas.”

The nonchalant way he says that just makes the moment as Jacob’s expression shifts, horrified.

“Oh, you did not,” he says.

“Sorry, Santa,” you answer, shrugging. “Maybe this time will be your year,”

Jacob straightens as he looks at Desmond, who’s currently snickering next to you, in utter betrayal. “Now I almost wish you _had_ fallen off the fire escape,”

Desmond nudges your shoulder as he slips off the stool. “Did you guys need something?”

Jacob huffs and shakes his head, backing away from the door and walking away. Desmond laughs again. “Dude, come on, it’s a great story! Everyone gets embarrassed in that one!”

“Then let’s go downstairs and tell everyone you told her,” Jacob calls down the hall, and you can hear him rushing for the stairwell.

Desmond falters for a moment, before scrambling after him. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You can hear the echo of the stairwell in his words as he calls back a quick “Good night, (y/n)!”

You laugh to yourself at the bar before getting up to close your door all the way. It was surprisingly nice to hang out with him, and you definitely felt more comfortable being here knowing more about them. As you turned back, you noticed Hachi was sitting much closer than he was before, whining slightly. You did some math in your head on how long you’ve been here and realise he probably really needs to go outside.

“Potty?” you ask, raising your hands slightly.

Hachi jumps, bouncing on his feet slightly.

“Dramatic little baby,” you say, rubbing his head and opening your door again.

He leads you down the stair well, and when you open the door at the bottom, you can faintly hear Desmond and Jacob yelling down towards Grams’ room. How late did they all stay up down here?

Hachi once again leads you, waiting at the front door for you. There was a bit of land before the main road, and he’d done this for years, so you didn’t need to go and look for a leash. You snagged a plastic bag from the holder on your way out and trailed him as he darted into the lawn. He was finished in a few minutes, and you were ready to go inside after tossing the bag before he changed course.

“Hachi, what the hell are you doing?” you called after him.

It had definitely gotten darker since you were outside last, and your vision was not the most reliable thing.

“Boy, there could be snakes and shit out here!” you tried again. “Let’s just go inside!”

You hear him bark before you turn the corner, and when you do you can see someone crouching down to pet him. You know Hachi well enough to know that he’s not a stranger to him, but he is to you.

“Oh, hey,” you say. “Sorry, I didn’t think anybody was out here.”

The man looks up at you as you grab his attention, and you can’t even be surprised at his face.

‘ _I’m sorry, did Grams save a damn country in her past life or something?_ ’ you think.

“My name is Connor,” the man says, raising a hand slightly in greeting. “You must be (y/n), Mrs. Dennis’ granddaughter.”

You try to school your expression as it clicks. Laughing at the memory of a Christmas you weren’t here for would not be a good first impression.

“Yep, that’s me,” you say. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,”

He looks confused for a moment, and you nearly blow it.

“Grams always tells me about you guys when we call,” you explain. “But she apparently doesn’t know how to work a camera phone,”

He lets out an ‘ah’ before standing up straight, and you nearly gape in shock. He smiles slightly down at you as Hachi headbuts his legs.

“I hope she has only told you good things,” he says, and you laugh lightly.

“For you, mostly. For the others, not so much.” you joke.

Hachi is very persistent with his headbutting, so you lean down to give him a noogie. “You’re gonna give yourself a concussion, kiddo,”

He snorts and rubs his face on your pants, making you let out a short laugh. “Thanks, dude. That’s real sweet of you,”

He stops rubbing for a moment to sneeze at the ground hard before looking up at you with a grin.

“Bless you,” you say, rubbing your thumb into his forehead.

Your attention is turned behind Connor as someone yells out, “I found it!”

Both of you look over at the newcomer, and a rough looking man with dirt on his clothes and a bottle in his hand appears.

“What the hell?” you mutter.

As he comes closer, you can see the bottle clearer and you falter.

“I told you I saw something over there,” the man says.

“Edward, we have company,” Connor says, stepping back slightly out of the man’s view of you.

“Is that from my stash?” you blurt.

Both of them turn to look at you in surprise.

“I mean… wow how did that get under the utility shed.” you tried again.

Edward laughs, walking towards you with a dirty hand out. “You sure know how to hide your drink,”

You sigh in defeat before grabbing his hand. “I’m mortified, but you can just call me (y/n),”

“Well, mortified, I’m Edward. Kenway,” the man doesn’t seem all too sober, but he looked pretty damn cheerful.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, nodding before releasing his hand to rest on Hachi’s head again.

“You could have just bought some at the store,” Connor said. “There was no reason for you to dig up an old bottle.”

Edward huffed, swinging the bottle around slightly. “It tastes that much better if you don’t pay for it yourself.”

“Just don’t let Grams see that,” you said. “That bottle’s been missing from her shelf for nearly a decade.”

-

The three of you end up heading to your grandmother’s room, Edward stashing the bottle behind the lobby desk to pick up on his way out.

“I should probably get a key next time,” you say. “It completely slipped my mind.”

“Good thing you’ve got us!” Edward says, throwing an arm up.

You lean over to Connor slightly. “Is he…”

“Always like this,” he finishes.

You laugh lightly, looking down at Hachi walking between the two of you. You’d expected him to run to Grams, but he seemed content staying where he was. You couldn’t hear Desmond and Jacob yelling anymore, but as Edward entered the room, you could tell they were still there. The hallway was a bit too narrow for you, Connor, and Hachi to walk through as you were, so you faltered back a bit to walk behind him. You resisted the urge to give him a once-over, and instead focused on the paintings lining the walls.

“Dude go take a shower, you look like a damn pirate,” Desmond says.

“You’re getting my rug dirty,” Grams adds. “At least take your shoes off.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Edward says.

As you reach the door, he’s setting them up against the wall, jacket falling over them. He heads into the bathroom to rinse his arms off, and Connor heads over to the couch to sit next to Grams. She looks up at him with a smile as he holds the yarn for her before she sees you.

“He didn’t find your stash, did he?” she asks.

“How did…” you cut off your sentence, knowing there’s no question you can ask that wouldn’t incriminate yourself. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, grandmother,”

She huffs and you move into the kitchen to lean against the counter next to Desmond. He looks rather surprised, but smiles nonetheless.

“Decide to interact with humanity afterall?” he asks.

“Hachi had to pee, then I ran into those two,” you say. “Figured I’d hang out for a bit before crashing.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he says.

“You better not make me climb those stairs to tell you goodnight,” Grams says.

“You know what would solve that?” you shoot back. “An elevator.”

Desmond and Jacob’s arms lift like they’d fought for the idea.

“See!” Jacob yells. “It’s not just us!”

“Elevators are excuses,” Connor says. “Stairs are good for you,”

You huff and lean further against the counter. “Those stairs are gonna put me into cardiac arrest.”

“Start walking around the block again,” Grams says. “Wake up those comatose muscles of yours.”

“Here I thought there was a gang after us,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Take one of them with you. Spend some time together, get to know each other,” she waves her hand around to gesture to the building, and you get her gist.

Was she seriously trying to play cupid with her ridiculous tennants?

“Subtle, Grams,” you say. “So, so subtle,”

She laughs on the couch as Edward come out of the bathroom. “I heard there was food ready,”

You all hang around for the next ten or so minutes, and you eventually found yourself curled up in the armchair Ezio had occupied earlier. The tv had another movie on that seemed to catch everyone’s attention, so there wasn’t much conversation happening between anyone.

“Are you planning on sleeping in my chair?” Grams asked.

You hadn’t even realised that your head had been dipping.

“Hmm?” you responded.

Looking over at her, you see that her and Connor’s attention are on you.

“You’re not going to make it up those stairs if you start dozing off,” she said. “Why don’t you go on upstairs and get some sleep?”

You smile sheepishly, moving your hair out of your face. “Do I look that tired?”

“Yes,” Connor answers. “You were asleep for a moment,”

You shift your gaze in shock before noticing that the room is more empty than it had been before. Had people really left without you noticing.

“Oh,” you say. “I guess I have,”

You shift in the chair to put your feet on the ground. “This chair ruins my back, so I should go,”

Grams sets her work on the coffee table in front of her before standing up and pulling you into a hug. “Goodnight, hun. I love you,”

“Love you too, Grams,” you say, rubbing her back.

The two of you pull away after a lingering moment and she pats your hair down.

“Come down here for breakfast,” she says. “Most of everyone will already be gone by the time you wake up so it’ll just be us, Connor, and Evie,”

You’re glad her position blocks your face from Connor’s view. “Will do,”

She gives you a slight wink before patting you away.

“Night, Connor, it was nice to meet you,” you say, waving as you make your way to the door.

“You as well,” he replies.

You bend down to pet Hachi as you pass him. “Good night to you, too,”

The lobby is coldy quiet as the door closes behind you. You slowly walked down the hall, your head began to clear slightly. This was the first moment you’d really had alone since waking up this morning. Hachi being just behind the door in your living room was a close comfort you needed as you spiraled, but as the door to the stairwell shut, your back tensed. Your trek up the stairs was on autopilot as you dweled over everything once more.

“Well, shit…” you whispered. “So this is actually happening right now,”

The hand rail was freezing under your palm, unnatural against the burning temperature under your skin. You stopped at the last few steps, rolling your shoulders. There was a slight ‘ting’ as your hand flexed, and you looked down at the source. Your ring caught on the light just above you, holding your attention for a moment. You’d been wearing it for so long that it felt like a part of yourself. It was a constant in your life that you’d relied on for years now, dictating your entire life around it. Now everything was crumbling around you in the most dramatic fashion. What were you supposed to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please let me know if there are any errors or just what you liked or what you'd like to see! Comments are incredibly motivating to me- when I know people are still enjoying it, I want to keep writing <3
> 
> You can also find me @ sonofnoraven on tumblr!


	5. ... Not Tragedies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally think about everything and, after a nice vent, take a turn at the current crossroads of your life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! I just had what's easily qualifying for the absolute worst week of my life, and we're moving today + tomorrow, so this chapter was very vent-y and therapeutic for me lmao. Before we can get to any romance, Read needs to untangle her wires and find herself before finding someone else, so thank you for sticking with me <3
> 
> wc: 5414
> 
> Edit: I'd lost about 1k words from the beginning and 3k from the end in my first post, so here's the full melodramatic shebang! (thank you to hellomyex for tipping me off lmao) Also some good news- I've fixed my desktop! But we just moved today so part of my desk got left behind and my laptop isn't connecting to the internet, so my joy is delayed. Anyways, I'm sorry for the slip-up and please enjoy whether this is your first or second time reading this chapter!

By the time you made it up to your apartment, you felt like there was a rock in your throat. You wanted to go back into your little bubble and pretend like nothing was wrong- that your life was perfect. That nothing had changed between you and Owen. But the more you thought about it, would that really be a good thing?

Your bones felt heavy as you sat on the couch. You’d practically been praying for a way out, so why was it when you’re finally handed one, you want to shut the door? It wasn’t like you’d be on your own, or out on the streets. You couldn’t convince yourself that Grams wouldn’t take care of you, especially not when you were literally sitting in your own apartment,

‘ _ My own apartment, _ ’ you thought to yourself.  _ ‘Never thought I’d hear that, _ ’

It definitely wasn’t as independent as most kids would hope they’d be when they’re older, but the thought of having even one door you could lock of your own volition had your insides burning. You could sit in the bath for an hour, or eat instant ramen for every meal. You could stay in bed and not see anyone until you binged the whole Narnia Chronicles seven-fold, or walk around town until the sun went down. Some hurting part of you considered this a reward for making it this far. But you knew to a third party, this kind of freedom of choice was a basic human right that never should have been taken from you.

“It’s over,” you say out loud.

You voice is horribly unsteady and your breathing would make a yoga instructor faint, but you pushed past the painful knot in your throat.

“It’s over,” you repeated, a little louder.

Your next breath is stolen by a sob, but despite the panic in your chest and the tears turning your cheeks sticky, you can feel yourself grinning. “It’s all over,”

-

You sit on the couch for a few minutes before making the executive decision to take a bath. The water’s up a few inches before you get the urge to check under the sink. As you had hoped, there’s a box of bath salts and a pink jug of cotton candy bubble bath.

“Treat yourself,” you say decidedly, leaning over from your position on the toilet lid to pour the mix in under the faucet.

You wash your face in hot water at the sink, feeling like a certified dermatologist as you dabbed at your skin with an even hotter damn washcloth. Your face had been through a lot in the past 24 hours, and finally giving it a proper apology helped with the tension in your shoulders. You adjusted the hair wrap around your ears, pushing back a few shorter strands that decided to stay behind. Washing your hair properly was a chore you would leave for yourself in the morning, not wanting to deal with any knots you knew you had right now.

Your feet were cold by the time the water had risen up enough to hang up your robe and slip in. You hadn’t had a bath big enough to actually relax in since you were a kid, so this felt like a blessing. Leaning your head back against the cast iron lip of the tub, you closed your eyes and let yourself slide down a bit to meet the water.

“Bless this water heater,” you sigh, pulling bubbles up onto your shoulders.

The sweet scent was one you haven’t smelled in forever, and it brought a small wave of nostalgia over you. You could remember trying to see how many rubber duckies you could hide in the bubbles until Grams or your mother noticed, but your giggling always gave you away. You smiled at your old memories, swishing the water around you with your hands. After a moment, you considered trying to lean out far enough to turn your phone’s playlist on, but glancing at the counter told you that you would probably have to get out to reach it.

“Who needs to plan ahead,” you mutter. “I can take a perfectly silent bath.”

By the time you have to turn the faucet off, some of the bubbles are tickling your nose. You pull your knees back a bit to rest your feet against the opposite end of the tub, toes peeking out of the hot water. Resting your head back again, you stare up at the textured ceiling above you. If you took the lack of floral wallpaper out of your field of vision, you could almost imagine nothing in the room had changed. Of course, the tub was much nicer than the rectangle you remember, but you could manage.

You weren’t soaking for long before thoughts you’d been skirting around came back to you. You’d watched so many sappy romances and teen dramas to know what to expect from a breakup, but this honestly wasn’t going according to script. Weren’t you supposed to be screaming, crying, demanding to know why he did it, and if it was all worth it? You sank a little further into the water. After giving yourself a moment earlier to let your anxiety break you down, you hadn’t felt much regarding Owen. You felt like you could just throw your ring into a gutter and snap the ties that bound you- take a long shower to wash away every ghost of his hands on your skin. How long had you been so numb to the thought of losing him? Why had you been so scared to walk away if the impact was this dull?

You stayed in the tub until your skin was warmer than the water and the last few bubbles clung to your upper arms. You were tired in more ways than one, and didn’t know if you would even be able to wake up in time for breakfast with Grams. A Twenty-eight hour nap sounded amazing right about now.

Turning the faucet on again, you cupped the water to rinse the remaining soap off of your body so you could pat yourself down and just curl up in bed. When you were sufficiently clean, you shut off the water and slowly got out of the tub. Your legs felt more tired than your head- everything was so heavy. You pulled your towel off the rack and dried off quickly before wrapping it around yourself, tucked under your arm. 

Grabbing your phone from the counter, you turned on your screen to see some new notifications. Skipping over anything with Owen’s name on it, you noticed a few texts from Desmond. 

' _ Hey, it's Desmond’  _

_ 'I thought you might want everyone’s numbers in case of an emergency, or just to you know not feel weird’  _

You smiled at his text, saving the string of numbers in his following one.

_ 'also you might want to know what rooms everyone's in??? Anyways haha. Grams is obviously in the lobby, and Altaïr (don't think you've had the absolute pleasure of meeting him) is in the room down the hall from the stairwell, next to the laundry room- used to be some storage rooms I think. I'm on the second floor with Arno (A3), Jacob (A2), and Evie (A1), in the room right below yours (I'm just a fire escape away if anything goes bump in the night- A0). You have Ezio (B1), Connor (B2), and Edward (B3) up there with you- Connor’s pretty quiet but wow do the other too not know how the volume dial works. Anyways we’re really happy you're here. If you need anything from anyone, don't hesitate to ask! One of us will probably be awake no matter the time, so if it's urgent you can send a 911 in a group chat and one of us should see it and check in on you.’  _

_ ‘oh right and grams said breakfast is at like 9:30-10 so good luck waking up early enough lol’  _

You snorted, pulling your robe on as you read his texts. It hadn't even occurred to you that you weren't, in fact, the only person on this floor. Twisting the lock around, you flicked the switch as you left the bathroom and closed the doors softly behind you. 9:30 am was definitely not the time you would have voted on waking up for, but you weren't going to pass on eating breakfast with Grams for the first time in forever. 

You clicked on the small night light next to your dresser before turning off your lamp and sliding into bed. The thick blankets were cold compared to your bath, but they adapted to your body temperature soon enough. You felt around for the charger you left on your nightstand, plugging your phone in as you set your alarm for 8:45 am. 

Before you shut your screen off, you noticed a text you hadn't seen in the bathroom. The number wasn't saved, but you didn't have a hard guess after reading what it said.

_ 'I’m sorry you had to find out this way, I really am. But you can't be surprised that he’s with someone else with how horribly you've treated him. Owen’s told me everything you've done to him, and you should honestly be ashamed of yourself.’ _

You were honestly speechless at the message. With how horribly you've treated him? What the actual hell was she talking about? You quickly shut off your screen and set your phone down, pulling your blankets over you. You could feel a sickening doubt crawling up your throat, making you feel things you thought you'd been free from. You were never bad to Owen. You listened to him, you loved him, you did everything he said. You treated him well. Didn't you?

 

When your alarm went off, you jerked awake, eyes wide. You couldn't remember when you finally fell asleep last night, but whatever you were dreaming of had followed you into your morning. Rolling over, you turned off your alarm and resisted the urge to close your eyes for just one more minute. Brushing the blankets off of you, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and managed to stand up. You focused deeply on your walk to the bathroom to try and ignore that sour pit behind your sternum, burning a hole through flesh and bone. You were nearly auto-piloted through your morning routine until you stood at the foot of your bed in a fresh pair of clothes- a solid-color sweater and a more colorful pair of leggings. You weren't planning on leaving the building, so you just pulled on the pair of slippers Grams had left beside your bed. 

You grabbed your phone before you left your room, checking your notifications again. All of your new messages were from Owen and that new number from last night, so you decided to spare your sanity and gave into the impulse to block both of them and clear your notifications. Some part of you urged you to delete their messages and start your day completely anew, but another part needed them. Needed to read actual words they had sent that just proved that the nearly unbearable wrenching of your insides wasn't in your head. 

You slipped your phone into your breast pocket, and your eye was caught on your dresser top. You hadn't put your ring on after your bath last night, and you didn't want to put it on now. But that would probably raise a few questions you couldn't answer out loud just yet.  _ ‘How would Grams feel,’ _ you thought  _ ‘If I told her I was such a horrible fiancée that he cheated on me,’ _

You caught your flinch in the mirror, and looked up at your wide eyes. Had that mangled part of you really survived the night? You didn't even need to ask that, because as you looked back down, the ring was already back on your finger. 

 

You fought internally to rip it off and throw it into the bushes all the way downstairs. You’d already walked away from him, and he'd obviously walked away from you. Or maybe you had pushed him to her? 

“No," you mumbled, chest tight. 

You knew it wasn't your fault, so why couldn’t you stop drifting back there? 

“You alright?”

You nearly leave the ground as you jump in shock. Turning your head, you notice Evie has come out of the stairwell behind you. 

“Apologies, I didn't mean to startle you,” she says. "You seem to have a lot on your mind,”

You can tell she means to make it sound like a question- an invitation- but she's so sure that it comes out sounding like a simple observation. Like,  _ the sky seems blue today _ . 

You find yourself looking at the wood panels below you. “I’m fine, thank you. Just didn't get much sleep.”

You resist the urge to say something fake and cheesy like ‘ _ It's so hard to get to sleep without Owen beside me _ ,'- something you've said at a work function when someone asked why you looked so tired. It honestly felt like self-defense at this point. And it kind of was. 

“Well, I’m glad you could make it to breakfast. We didn't get to talk much last night.” she says. There's a slight pressure at your back as she walks forward, and you can guess her hand is there as she leads you onward. 

“Sorry," you say, feeling oddly guilty. “I’m not used to meeting so many people at once.”

You glance up at her face and can't determine exactly what her expression means, but you feel like your apology didn't make her feel any better.

“You don't have anything to apologize for. I’d be more concerned if yesterday  _ wasn't  _ a little overwhelming for you.” she says.

A muscle you're pretty sure doesn't actually exist contracts somewhere between your heart and her stomach. You knew there was literally no way she was including your current standing with Owen in her statement, but it still brought on some panic in you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, not really sure what else to say. 

You scratch at your arm as she sighs, the two of you turning down Grams’ hallway. You're watching the panels under your feet again, but this time your attention is being coaxed by the hand at your back. It isn't very firm, but you can't help but to compare like everything else in your life. Whenever you’d gone out with Owen, he’d hardly guide you like this- knowing you'd just be at his heels like a good little- 

_ ‘Stop thinking about him,’ _ you bark at yourself.  _ 'It’s not doing you any favors to wallow in self-pity, just walk away and get over it.’  _

You fiddle anxiously with your ring as the two of you reach Grams’ apartment. You can't help but wonder how often she actually shuts her door as you both head towards her in the kitchen. 

“Is Connor not down yet?” Evie asks, hand sliding off of your back as she passes you to help Grams whisk something. 

You find yourself leaning after her, but hopefully catch it before she notices.

“He's taking Hachi out for me real quick. He’ll just be a minute,” Grams says.

You lean against the counter and wrap your arms around yourself, studying the floor. You refused to let your mind wander again, so you counted whatever you could find to overload your brain. You soon find yourself pulling your ring on and off as you resisted the urge to acknowledge it any further.

Your attention was pulled back by a nasty succession of sneezes that could only have come from the cutest boy in the building. Smiling, there's soon a smiling dog wedging himself between your calves to sit at your feet. 

“Hey, baby boy,” you greet, leaning down to rub his ears.

He looks up at you, skin pulling down to widen his grin.

“Goofy little baby,” you murmur.

“He seems to have missed you,” someone says behind you.

You glance over your shoulder to smile at Connor. "He’s a little clingy, but he means well,”

He smiles back at you, and you turn your attention down to Hachi to stop yourself from saying something stupid about how pretty he is when he smiles.

“I don't know  _ where _ he possibly gets it from,” Grams says from the stove. “It's not like I had a granddaughter that would cry every time I left the room without telling her.”

“Infants have no concept of time, and mom kept saying you ran away from me," you shot back. “I was pretty traumatized by that, actually.”

Evie laughs lightly, tapping her whisk on the side of the bowl. "The opposite happened to me. Jacob would get stuck in a nook or cranny and I’d run to our father to tell him the good news- Jacob had finally run off to join the circus,”

 

The four of you chat for a while as Evie and Grams get the food ready. You and Connor end up leaning against the counter together with Hachi sitting between you.

“They still haven’t let me back in there,” Evie says. “But it was completely Jacob’s fault.”

It felt nice to be laughing with everyone, just to spite the heavy weight in your breast pocket. Evie piled the plate next to her with the french toast she just finished, sliding it down to the end of the counter.

“(y/n), would you mind getting the pitcher out of the fridge?” Grams asks.

You nod and push off the counter, rubbing Hachi’s head before you walk to the fridge.

“I’m surprised you aren’t making me cook,” you say, pulling the door open.

You hear Grams hum over the eggs. “Evie always helps with breakfast, and I’m guessing you’re tired of cooking.”

‘ _ Then why was I making dinner? _ ’ you stewed over internally.

“Can’t deny that,” you joked, pulling out the pitcher of tea and closing the door gently.

“A lot of us just tend to cook down here and eat together,” Evie says. “Just show up before it’s finished and you’ll have a plate saved for you,”

You send her a smile as you set the pitcher down to grab glasses. As you set them down, you hear the slight ‘ _ tink _ ’ of your ring tapping against one. You’d never been more aware of it since the first week you had it on, but it seemed like the universe was adamant on reminding you it was there. Evie and Grams continued their cooking, and as you looked around, your caught Connor’s gaze. The expression on his face was hard to determine, so you just looked away and quietly apologised for whatever brought it on.

You poured the tea into the glasses, keeping your gaze locked on the rising level so you didn’t spill it or let your mind wander again.

“Hey, (y/n),” Evie says. “Have you heard about that new art gallery they opened in town?”

You can’t stop yourself from perking up. “An art gallery?”

“Yes, Ezio’s friend Leonardo got some pieces accepted for the showing tonight, so a few of us are going to show our support.” she continues.

“Oh, that sounds nice,” you say.

There’s a beat of silence you nearly miss before Connor speaks. “Would you like to come with us?”

You look up in shock. Were they inviting you to go with them?

“Ah, I don’t really have anything nice to wear,” you start, fiddling with your ring. “Plus I don’t want to inconvenience anyone,”

“I still have some of your mother’s things,” Grams says. “It would be good for you to go out for a bit.”

You can’t think of anything to say to shut them down, or any good reason to. “Oh, okay,”

Your response isn’t the most enthusiastic thing, but Evie smiles at you anyways. You turn back to the tea and smile as well.

When they’re done cooking, the four of you sit around Grams’ tv and watch old conspiracy documentaries.

“I swear everything you watch is recorded on a vhs.” you say, stabbing your food.

“One of Desmond’s friends moved everything to cds for me,” Grams says. “Takes up much less space,”

“And the quality looks better too,” Evie adds, leaning comfortably in the loveseat.

“You must have lost a bet or something,” you joke. “You would never part with those old things.”

“Most of them are in the storage room across the hall,” Connor says. “So she didn’t really,”

Hachi sneezes at your feet as Grams huffs in mock-offense.

 

As you rinse off everyone’s plates to set them in the sink, Evie leaves first.

“I’ve got to make sure my brother doesn’t demolish any buildings,” she says. “I’ll see you tonight, at seven.”

You give her a smile and a wave as she leaves before you turn the faucet off.

You dry your hands off on the towel next to the sink, mulling over crime conspiracies in your head.

“Oh, (y/n)? Would you mind taking Hachi around for a bit? His vet says he needs to get out more, and I need Connor here to help me move some things around in the shed,” Grams calls to you.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you say. “Can I nab a pair of shoes? I don’t want to ruin my fuzzy slippers.”

You lift your leg up and wiggle your foot behind the counter.

“There’s some sneakers by the door, go wild,” Grams waves you off as Connor turns off the tv set.

“I’ll be back in a few, I have my phone on me in case I get lost,” you say, patting your thigh to call Hachi over to you.

“You think I renovated the damn trees? You’ll be fine,” she doesn’t look up from the yarn project in her lap as you pull her shoes on and lead Hachi to the front door.

He stuck at your side before you got outside, so you bent down a bit and rubbed the sides of his face.

“Ready for a totally-not-more-for-me-than-for-you run around the property?” you asked him, scratching behind his ear.

Hachi let out a deep bark before running ahead of you. Laughing, you took your phone from your shirt pocket to hold as you picked up beside him.

You hadn’t run like this in a while, and your legs already hated you from the stairs you’d been using frequently. But it felt nice. Hachi ran some ways ahead of you before circling back and going again, knowing not to run too far from you.

“Show off,” you joke, picking up your speed until the gravel under your feet was nearly as loud as the pounding in your ears.

You used to drive circles in the sort of roundabout in front of the apartment when Grams had first gotten her golf cart. Little Hachi would run beside you in the trees, having the time of his life. The longer you were here, the more you felt like you were being pulled back through a door you thought you’d locked behind you. Eating breakfast you didn’t cook? Going to an art showing with people you could say are  _ friends _ ? Hell, even your restless sleep felt slightly less suffocating- like you’d been sleeping with too many blankets because you were afraid of the cold, but as soon as you kicked them off you fought through the vulnerability.

Hachi skidded to a stop up ahead before barking and taking off at a much more serious speed and leaving your vision around the curve. You faltered and nearly ate dirt before going after him.

“Hachi, no no no no,” you panicked tossing your phone to the grass before you accidentally dropped it, and stepping out of the gravel to run smoother.

As you turned the bend, you saw a car driving away, and Hachi jumping up at a hooded man you could assume had gotten out of the car.

“What’re you doing out here, dog?” you heard the man ask.

Hachi seemed to know him, wagging his tail and bumping his head into his legs.

“I’m so sorry!” you yelled, still in a panic. “Hachi what’re you doing?”

Hachi barked before running back over to you and sitting in front of you as you stopped.

“You can’t do that, honey, who knows what cars are over here,” you say, crouching to rub at his face.

Hachi sneezes with his grin, not seeming too fazed at the thought.

“There’s a gate now,” the man says. “No one without a key can get in and none of us are blind enough to hit Hachi,”

You look up at him in surprise. “A gate? Grams hates gates,”

“I assume she also hates trespassers and break-ins,” he says, walking towards you with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

As you actually look at him, you can see that his hood is covering half of his face in shadow. But what you  _ can _ see looks shockingly like someone else you know.

“Are you…” you don’t even know how to finish that thought, knowing it would be a little idiotic to ask if he’s Desmond.

“I am Altaïr,” he says. “Are you (y/n)?”

You bring your hand up from Hachi for a short wave. “Yeah, that’s me,”

“I didn’t think you’d ever come here,” he says, and you can pick up some edge in his tone.

“That seems to be the recurring theme,” you half-joke, petting the dog in front of you again for some comfort.

There’s a brief moment of tense silence before he speaks again.

“You’re still wearing your ring,” he says. “You’re still engaged,”

You don’t know how to pull a response for that. Plus technically only one of those was true? You look down at your hand, spreading your fingers to look at your hand.

“I guess I am?” you say, sounding very unsure.

Altaïr continues walking until he’s past you before saying, “If you don’t plan on changing that, go back now and save your grandmother the grief,”

 

You don’t know how long you’re out there after he leaves. After a minute or so you’d dropped from your crouch to just sit in the gravel. You could understand where he was coming from, but the deadpan delivery and purely apathetic tone hit something inside of you. Was your situation really that tiring for people? You stared blankly at the ground as you once again mulled over everything, before Hachi stood up and started running back where you’d come from. As you hear footsteps shifting gravel, you look over your shoulder to see Connor holding your phone and coming towards you.

“We were beginning to think you were lost,” he says, sitting in front of you. “Then Altaïr came in.”

Hachi sits next to you two as Connor holds your phone out for you. You take it from him, staring at the screen before turning it on. There were a few texts from Connor and a call from Grams, but nothing else had showed.

“Your grandmother wanted me to speak to you when you returned, but I assume Altaïr had said his piece,” he says.

“He’s right,” you mutter.

Hachi sneezes again, laying down to rest his head on your thigh.

“Altaïr doesn’t always listen to the full story before writing his response,” Connor tells you. “He doesn’t understand where you are right now.”

“And you do?” you ask.

You don’t know if your question came out more insulting or hopeful, but he sighs either way.

“A friend of mine was in a similar place to you,” he says. “It may not have been exactly the same, but I can most likely understand you better than some of the others. You can also just vent if you’d like. You may not be ready to hear people, but you need someone to listen.”

You fiddle with the ring on your finger for a moment before pausing. “I hate him. I hate this. Part of me knew what was happening, like I was just watching him bury me alive,”

You can’t look up at Connor to see his expression, but you can guess yours when your throat tightens again.

“I should have known sooner, but he’s been cheating on me, too. I called him last night to tell him what happened and she answered the phone. She kept texting me, too, saying I shouldn’t be surprised with how horribly I’d been treating him.” the gravel shifts a bit in front of you. “I just want out, but I relied on him for long enough that I don’t know who I am without him anymore.”

You feel guilty for unloading on him, but you suddenly find yourself sobbing, your hand pressing against your mouth. Hachi wines, moving to lay his head further in your lap.

“I just want to forget everything he did, everything he said, but it’s all I have of the past three years,” you manage to push out more, feeling like you were finally getting rid of a bad case of food poisoning one way or another. “I hate him. I hate  _ me. _ I hate what he did to me, who he made me.”

You cover your face with your hands as you push more sobs, just wanting it to get  _ out _ of you. You’re pulled forward a bit, your forehead resting on Connor’s shoulder as he wraps an arm loosely over your back.

He holds you there for a minute until your sobbing turns into pained gasps, your tears eventually stopping.

“I’ve been crying too much these past 24-hours,” you say, pulling away from him slowly.

You wipe at your face before Hachi’s nuzzling you, smearing something wet on your cheek.

“I appreciate the sentiment, you nasty boy,” you tell him, scratching his chin.

You look at Connor with an embarrassed look on your face. “I’m sorry for unloading on you like that. I have a habit of bottling things up until I can throw it at a brick wall.”

“That’s very unhealthy,” he says, standing up and holding a hand out to you.

“My mom says it builds character,” you reply, taking his hand to help yourself up.

 

The two of you walk back to the apartments in general silence as you take the time to try and fix your face in your phone camera.

“So Altaïr seems like a really fun guy,” you say as the two of you approach the front door.

Connor’s lips twitch up a bit. “He is when he thinks about what he’s saying. Although like Jacob says, he can be a bit of a prick,”

You snort, fixing your hair as he holds the door open for you.

“Thank you,” you say. “For everything,”

“When you find the moment, I’m not the only one you should show your gratitude to,” he replies, picking up Hachi to carry him back to Grams’ room.

The dramatic dog was sounding like he’d run the roundabout the entire time you were out there.

“I’m gonna head up to my room for a bit,” you say. “I’ll be back down in a few,”

“I’ll let her know,” he says, nodding in farewell before disappearing down the hallway.

After a moment, you sigh, fiddling with your ring. Altaïr was right in his intention, you just wish he was less of a dick about it. There was no reason for you to still have the ring on, it was just a security blanket by now. Grams wouldn’t blame you for anything that happened, and you were pretty sure she’d be happy to kick Owen’s ass as she’d been offering for years. You gave the ring one last twist before sliding it off your finger and dropping it into the basket of junk on the front desk. You could find some pier on the beach later to have your dramatic lifetime moment, but for now it could wallow with the post-its and stray paperclips.

As you turn and head towards the stairwell, you notice someone’s leaning in the hallway.

“Altaïr,” you say, hesitating for a moment.

“I apologise,” he says. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that before listening.”

Before you can say anything back, he turns down the hall to where you remember Desmond said his room was.

“I appreciate it?” you called after him, sufficiently baffled.

You really needed to take another bath. Maybe this time with candles and music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally met all the tenants! Whoever gets the most chapter-time is often linked to who I feel comfortable writing in my current mood, so I tend to rewrite chapters multiple times until I get to where I'm going. This chapter had three different directions within the first 1k words before I decided on this route. Also we've had a very stingy peek at two of the first side-characters that will be introduced ;) the first one was named, but the second you'll have to guess (though I doubt it would be that hard). Let me know if you like how each chapter is longer or if you'd like them to get a little shorter! Some people can binge-read but I definitely have moments where something can lose my attention if it's getting too long  
> Each kudo is another swift kick to Owen's metaphorical ass, so I appreciate every one <3
> 
>  
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> As always, please let me know if there are any errors or just what you liked or what you'd like to see! Comments are incredibly motivating to me- when I know people are still enjoying it, I want to keep writing <3

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if you catch any typos! The first half of this was put through Hemingway, but then I felt like it was making everything sound too stiff so I said fuck it and switched to docs. next chapter should be up super soon bc I'm on a roll and starting right now, so,,, let me know what you thought and what you'd like to see!


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